Tellson’s Bank was “very small, very dark, very ugly, and very incommodious” and its owners were very proud of this. Looking disreputable is the best way to look reputable by their logic. It “was the triumphant perfection of inconvenience.”

Dickens then spends almost a full page describing how totally gross and dungeon-esque the place is inside, and another half page describing how very fond the state is, with the assistance of the lugubrious Tellson’s firm, of putting people to death for minor financial crimes. Write a bad cheque? Death. Steal sixty pence? Death. Open a letter that doesn’t belong to you? Death. Put pineapple of pizza? Death. Admittedly that last one is warranted. This place has so many nasty surprises they had to bring in Oprah from the evil twin universe to tell each customer to check under their seat. On the bright side, our buddy Jerry with the “Don’t play leapfrog with me” hairdo is one of those flashy sign holders outside doing flashy tricks to encourage victims…er…customers to come inside and enjoy the mustiness. Jerry’s last name, we learn, is Cruncher, so I assume he works part time as a mob enforcer, with headbutting as his weapon of choice.  Thus Book the Second begins:

The Cruncher household consists of Jerry, his wife, and his son, also named Jerry. We are introduced to his home by Jerry the elder waking up to his wife praying, and him spending two full pages berating her for praying against him and causing all his bad luck. He is an “honest tradesman” and spends his days sitting on a stool outside the bank waving the aforementioned flashy sign with Jerry Jr. while yelling at children. They are described as grimy monkeys glaring at people walking by. Jerry sounds like a fun guy. A+ husband and father.

Someone from the bank pops out to say they need a porter, so Jerry leaves his son to maintain glare duty while he goes off to port stuff. Porter stuff? Porterize? Use his spikey hair to be Hairy Porter? Without looking up the verb form, porterize sounds the most incorrect, so I will go with that.

Jerry is instructed to porterize a message to Mr. Lorry at the Old Bailey (courthouse) and then stick around to act as messenger if needed. Jerry’s close set eyes have a conference about this (that’s how Dicken’s describes it) and come to the conclusion they will agree.

As Jerry heads there, Dickens tells us about all the fun punishments they had back then, some of which I had to look up, and none of which I will mention here. Suffice it to say they did not involve rainbow farting unicorns or daises that smelled like fresh baked cinnamon rolls.

In fact, in describing the nearby gaol (jail) we learn the whole place smells of unwashed bodies, disease, and spite. It is basically the Mos Eisley cantina.

People are lined up to pay admission to get in and see the trial, which we hear is almost as good as seeing Bedlam (the mental hospital). What makes a person feel better than seeing someone else suffer, right?

Jerry: What’s on tap today?

Doorman: Treason.

J: Oh, the ‘ol quartering then?

D: Oh no no, much more gruesome than that. Let me describe in detail.

J: But only if he’s guilty, right?

D: Oh, he’ll be guilty alright.

The note is successfully porterized to Mr. Lorry, who is hanging out with with all the judges and lawyers and whatnot. Jerry catches his attention to let him know he will be there.

D: So what is Mr. Lorry doing there among all the big wigs anyway?

J: No idea.

D: So what are you doing here then?

J: No idea.

D: Seems legit.

Everyone is super excited to see the accused found guilty, and the whole place has herbs and vinegar sprinkled around to counteract the gaol smells described above. The Prisoner is marched in and they read off the charges of treason against “our serene, illustrious, excellent, and so forth king.” These are very important descriptors it would seem, as they are repeated four times over in the space of as many sentences. The Prisoner glances over at a young woman and an older man who are perhaps wife and father-in-law of the accused and the kangaroo court begins.

Prosecution: The accused is not just a traitor, he is a super traitor. You may have heard of Captain America and his super soldier serum? Well, this guy took super traitor serum. But, like every villain, he will eventually be defeated. We will produce the patriot who exposed him. Once Super Traitor’s friend, this patriot stood up and did what was right for his country. Super Patriot is so awesome that if we made statues in this country like they did in ancient Greece and Rome, he would get one. I mean, we don’t, so he probably won’t get one, but still, that’s how awesome he is. (This is a paraphrase of an actual line in the book by the way.)

In the course of this trial, we will prove, without a doubt, that Super Traitor (whose name is Charles Darnay) is super guilty. We will prove it so much that unless you find him guilty, you will never be able to lay your head on your pillow at night. Your wife will never be able to lay her head on her pillow at night. Your children will never be able to. In short, no heads will be able to be lain on any pillows. He is gonna be so guilty, he is going to wish he wasn’t so guilty.

Super Patriot (whose name is John Barsad) sounds kind of sus on the cross examination. He sidesteps questions about his own potentially shady past, but afterwards the flies start buzzing in anticipation of a guilty verdict anyway. Next up is a servant of Darnay who basically repeats Barsad. After that Jarvis Lorry is called and confirms that Darnay rode the packet ship (ferry) from France with him five years earlier when he ferried Mr. and Miss Manette out of the super gross attic.

Miss Manette double confirms that Darnay traveled with them, and states that he was very kind and helpful in tending to her ill father. Due to his kindness she is unwilling to speak ill of him but is forced to nonetheless. She states that Darnay conferred with two Frenchman over some papers before the packet shoved off. Then, after tending to her father, she chit-chatted with him. He said he was traveling under an assumed name, might be doing some delicate work for some time to come, and thought that Britain’s war with America was foolish. Big nail in the coffin was when he said George Washington might wind up having as big a name in history as King George III. I guess the British are not fond of Washington for some reason. Here is a pic of the audience:

Mr. Manette testifies, but can’t really confirm anything, since he was in a fugue state at the time what with the whole ‘I am busy making shoes’ thing he had going on at the time. He is rattled recalling his imprisonment but for the most part seems to have recovered and is a functioning member of society.

The defense produces a doppelganger of Mr. Darnay, and contends that if there were two such similar people in the same room, could anyone be really sure that it was actually Darnay in that boat on a dark stormy night? They assert that Super Patriot and his assistant were the real spies, and that the Darnay was on secret family business, kept in confidence due to its delicacy, and had nothing to do with state secrets.

The jury deliberated for a hot minute, then came back with a not guilty verdict and Jerry is sent to carry the message quick as could be to the bank. The angry crowd disperses to go find someone else to rabble at.

Mr. And Miss Manette, Jarvis, Darnay, and Stryver (defense counsel for Darnay) all stand around giving each other high fives. My guess is that Darnay is in fact super guilty and conspiring with the rest of our high five groupies but I guess we shall see.

Mr. Manette is still a bit melancholy from the testimony, but his daughter is there to help. “She was the golden thread that united him to a Past beyond his misery, and to a Present beyond his misery: and the sound of her voice, the light of her face, the touch of her hand, had a strong beneficial influence with him almost always.“

They go their separate ways until only Mr. Lorry and Darnay are left, then Mr. Carton (Darney’s doppleganger) emerges from the shadows to taunt Lorry for being all business all the time, and Lorry trundles off to pout. Carton is instantly very sketchy, but as Darnay is kind of just left to his own devices he goes with him to find a pub for Darnay to get dinner, and Carton to get more wine, of which he has already had a fair amount.

At the pub Darnay eats while Carton asked him a series of cryptic, antagonistic questions:

Carton: I’m unlikable.

Darnay: No argument here.

Carton: Good cuz I am. I am a totally grumpy curmudgeon.

Darnay: Well you did assist Mr. Stryver in acquitting me, plus you brought me here, so there’s that. Thanks by the way.

Carton: Bah humbug. Don’t thank me. I have no idea why I did it and I am a miserable old coot. Do you think I even like you?

Darnay: Your actions with the acquittal and dinner say yes but literally everything else screams no.

Carton: Winner, Winner, chicken dinner. I dislike everyone, especially me. Do you like me?

Darnay: Gonna have to go with not really.

Carton: Cool, glad we’re on the same page, I’m gonna pass out drunk now.

Darnay: Okay, considering that no part of this evening with you has been pleasant I will leave you to it.

I should precede this chapter summary with a short geographic history. The following I learned partly through research while reading and partly from playing Assassin’s Creed:

Temple Bar is an area of London associated with the legal profession. Originally one of two gates to the city, it is so named for the literal bar (later an archway) that “barred the road” into town at the headquarters of the Knights Templar. The Templars were essentially a group of warrior-monks whose initial purpose was to protect pilgrims on the road to Jerusalem. They were also the original bankers: They would collect a pilgrim’s money at their “temple” (hence templar) and issue a bank note that could be redeemed at a temple at their destination. This discouraged thieves.

Having been disbanded in the 14th century, the Temple now refers to a complex of buildings devoted to the legal profession. A number of students and professionals live there as well. Now that the stage is set, on we go with the tour:

Back then people drank. A lot. Dickens tells us that what was considered a moderate amount then would be alcohol poisoning for most people now, with now being 1859, when he wrote it. Stryver and Carton are no exceptions, especially Carton, who had gained a reputation as a bit of a lush. Stryver is a court favorite, everyone at the Old Bailey loves him and his reputation grows daily. Carton, on the other hand, is basically “a jackal to lion”: he prepares the way and mostly cries in the night.

The waiter wakes Carton up at 10 PM, as he requested, and he stumbles his way to the Temple to Stryver’s apartment. They discuss the day’s trial: